


you want me to what

by Lord_Miraak



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: College of Winterhold Questline, Companions, Drabble, Dragonborn DLC, Gen, Shorts, Skyrim Main Quest, Snippets, Thieves Guild, Unreliable Narrator, Vampires, Vampirism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-14 20:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8028277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Miraak/pseuds/Lord_Miraak
Summary: Or, in which the Dragonborn decides not to put up with the shit people try to put him up with.(a.k.a in which the author is exasperated at various storylines/game mechanics in the game)





	1. On: The Companions, Kodlak’s Death

**Author's Note:**

> Drabbles/shorts/snippets featuring my Dovahkiin character(s). Stories are in no particular order, just things that come to me as they happen where I wish I could drop kick the canon storyline(s) off the Throat of the World. And other random stuff.
> 
> Length of chapters will vary, but should all be under 1000 words each.
> 
> Open to suggestions!

Kodlak lies dead, and the members of the Inner Circle were filled with grief and fury, determined to bring justice and revenge upon the werewolf-killing Silver Hand. But all the Dragonborn could think of was, _And just what in Oblivion does this have anything to do with me?_

Yes, he was somehow accepted into the Inner Circle because of a series of weird coincidences such as witnessing Farkas’ transformation back in Dustman’s Cairn, but really, during his entire time as a Companion he’d only spoken to the elderly Harbinger like…three times. Yet everyone expected him to be grieving and mourning and swearing vengeance for a man he barely knew. Nor particularly cared about.

He tapped a foot against the ground impatiently, waiting for the funeral to end, not caring if his face was flat against the 'travesty' that was the Harbinger's death. It would be more of an insult to pretend to be grieving for Kodlak when he was not, he thought. Despite feeling like he had just trekked through Skyrim and battled five screechy Hagravens and their pets for nothing, this does give a convenient reason to ~~go on a killing spree and collect more silver weaponry to add to his collection~~ extract vengeance later, which will undoubtedly be what the Companions would want, so there was that.


	2. On: Thieves Guild, Nightingale Induction

“You want me to _what?”_ The Dragonborn said as Karliah explained the procedure.

“You must swear an oath to Nocturnal to serve her in life in times of need, and to protect her realm in death.” The ex-Nightingale repeated patiently.

He turned to Brynjolf and asked, incredulously, “And you actually think that that’s a fair trade? Eternal servitude to a Daedric Prince even after you’re dead?”

“Of course, the powers of a Nightingale is nothing to laugh at lad, and all power comes with a price.” Brynjolf replied, appearing puzzled at his fellow thief’s reaction.

“...Right. Okay. Uh. You two go on ahead and go serve Nocturnal and whatever. I’m just going to...go to this Irkngthand place and find Mercer. Yep.” The Dohvahkiin said, setting the Nightingale armor back down onto its pedestal and slowly backing a few steps towards the exit. The Deadlands would freeze over before he was ever swearing eternal servitude and selling out his soul to some Daedric Prince. Barring maybe Sheogorath or Sanguine, as they seem to have the right idea and had been fun the last time he came across them, but Nocturnal? Yeah, no.

He ran.


	3. On: Main Questline, Season Unending Negotiations

“I have every right to be at this negotiation.” Elenwen, the Thalmor emissary, said haughtily, “I need to ensure that nothing that is agreed to here violates the terms of the White-Gold Concordat.”

Immediately, the Stormcloak representatives Ulfric Stormcloak and Galmar Stone-Fist objected vehemently and everyone started bickering over whether or not the Altmer should stay.

Finally, Arngeir raised his voice and quieted everyone down. “Please, if we have to negotiate the terms of the negotiation, we will never get anywhere. Perhaps this would be a good time to get the Dragonborn’s input on this matter.”

The Dragonborn blinked as suddenly everyone was staring at him.

…What the fuck, Arngeir?

“Uh, no. No way am I getting put on the pedestal here.” He held up his hands and shook his head vigorously, “There is nothing I can say that won’t result in at least someone here getting pissed, and I have enough people clamoring after my head already. Flip a coin for all I care, leave me out of it. You want my input? Here it is: I don’t care what either side gets or loses out of this negotiation. By Sheogorath’s left toe, I don’t care about this bloody civil war, period. I’m only here because Jarl Balgruuf won’t let me borrow Dragonsreach so I can catch a dragon until this issue is resolved.”

And with that, the Dragonborn folded his arms over his chest and resolutely clamped his mouth shut, ignoring everyone.

In the end, they went with the coin toss.


	4. On: Vampirism, Fellglow Keep Vampires, Meridia, and The Wolf Queen Awakened

“Out of the way, meat.” The vampire snapped, shoving the Dragonborn out of her way as she and her kin escaped their cages in the dungeons of Fellglow Keep. The Dragonborn blinked but stepped obligingly aside. He supposed he couldn’t fault them for not being able to see that he was a vampire just like them, considering they were pretty busy with getting themselves out of the place…

He set the one who had snapped "Don't speak to me, meat." on fire, though. Rude.

\---

 _"I have brought you here, mortal, to be my champion. "_ Declared Meridia, _"You will guide my light through my temple, retrieve my artifact, and destroy the defiler! Skyrim's dead shall remain at rest, as it should be. Do this, and I shall make you the instrument of my cleansing light."_

"Uh...kill the defiler. Retrieve your artifact. Got it." He wasn't about to go and correct a Daedric Prince renowned for their hatred of the undead.

\---

 _“You’ve arrived at last.”_ The distant, echo-y voice of the Wolf Queen said as the Dragonborn entered the catacombs under the temple, _“The hero who prevented me from being bound returns to my fold. I have much to thank you for, little one. When you die I will raise you and you can take your place by my side.”_

The Dragonborn frowned. This was getting a bit annoying. While he didn’t exactly broadcast his vampiric status from the rooftops, he would have thought that those with necromantic ties (especially one as notorious as the Wolf Queen was, what with having vampires for war generals and whatnot back in the day) or fellow vampires should at least know better.

\---

“You’ve come far, mortal. No doubt you seek to-”

The vampire made a strangled gurgle and collapsed with an arrow through his neck.

The Dragonborn holstered his bow irritably and stomped on.

\---

_“Not much further. Come, little thing. Serve me in death.”_

“I’m already dead, thank you very much.” The Dragonborn muttered under his breath as he kicked aside another draugr corpse.

\---

As he approached the final room where the Wolf Queen’s spirit hovered, she cried, _“You’ve come far, mortal, but can you stand against my inner council? Let’s see!”_ and yet another draugr horde burst out of their sarcophaguses and advanced towards him.

“Oh for the love of- Stop calling me mortal!” The Dragonborn finally snapped, “You’re supposed to be this powerful necromancer or something from what I’ve heard about you and aren’t you currently in ghost form and should be even more in tune with the energy of the dead? I get how most people, even vampires, could miss it, but how can you of all people not see that I’m a bloody vampire for Sithis’ sake!”

There was a pause, as even the draugr halted, and everyone stared at the seething Dragonborn.

 _“I…see.”_ Potema said, then, after a beat, _“Now, rip the eyes from his head, my servants!”_

\---

Later, the Dragonborn made sure to roast the apparition of the Wolf Queen back into the afterlife as slowly and as painfully as possible.

\---

**Bonus:**

"Well done in successfully eliminating Hern," Nazir congratulated, "Now, if you contracted Sanguinare Vampiris, be sure to get that taken care of. Else you'll end up like our own Babette. Unless, of course, that was your goal all along..."

The Dragonborn slapped a hand over his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It always bugged me how out of all the vampires and other sentient undead in the game, only Alva in Morthal recognizes the player as a fellow blood-sucker. (Dawnguard DLC not withstanding) Even Meridia, well-known for hating the undead, is apparently perfectly happy to allow a vampire to wield Dawnbreaker in her name. Wtf?


	5. On: Dawnguard (Vampires), Arch-Curate Vyrthur

“Wow,” The Dragonborn commented idly after Serana confronted Vyrthur, and the Arch-Curate revealed his vampiric status after tearing down the ceiling and revealing the blue skies from above, “I wasn’t aware that you’re a Volkihar vampire. Or that there was another type of vampire that doesn’t immediately catch fire under the sun.”

“What?” Vyrthur said. Serana just stared at him like he was crazy.

The Dragonborn pointed upwards, then at the other vampire and the lack of flames on him. “Well, you’re either a Volkihar vampire or some kind of vampire I didn’t know about that can walk under the sunlight, considering you’re bathing in it and haven’t combusted yet.” He paused and shrugged, “Or maybe Auriel is still making an effort to protect you even as a vampire. You don’t even appear to be bothered by the brightness.” Unlike himself, he thought inwardly; the brightness of everything under the sun had been a source of constant irritation after his change into undeath.

Vyrthur blinked. “I…hadn’t thought of it like that. It’s true I don’t feel any discomfort under the sun,” He said, appearing suddenly unsure, but then regathered his momentum, “But why this feeble show of protection? Why not protect me from vampirism entirely in the first place? Why let me suffer for all these years without so much as a sign?”

The Dragonborn shrugged again. “Hey, don’t look at me, I’m not Auriel.” Then he thought about it, “Though if I have to make a guess, it’s probably so that even after the rest of the Falmer have devolved into monstrous little things you can still remain strong? Your brother seemed frail enough that he’d fall over any moment. I’m surprised that he even lasted as long, considering it’s been like…thousands of years and the general life span of any other species of elves is around…two hundred years.”

The Snow Elf’s mouth opened and closed several times. After a few moments he turned back to Serana, who had been watching the exchange with an eyebrow raised.

“It…would seem that I owe you, and Auriel, an apology.” He finally mumbled, “I know it’s not much after all I’ve done, but…” He made a complex hand movement and a moment later a dome rose from the ground, revealing a gleaming silver bow hovering above a basin. “Take the bow, I…I’d like to think that Auriel would approve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of a fix-it than a I’ve-had-it-with-this-nonsense, but eh, I’ve always thought it was weird how he’d bring down the ceiling while it was broad daylight outside, wearing armor that barely covered anything, and didn’t seem to be bothered by it at all…


	6. On: Dragonborn, Frea

He wanted to listen to the voice more. It was a nice voice, and he wasn't in any urgent business. It would be a few more hours before dawn, and until then he would listen to the voice.

Approaching the glowing pillar in the middle of the temple, he reached out to touch it, to activate the strange power that had seduced so many others.

"NO! Do not touch the stone while Miraak controls it!" A voice shouted, but he ignored it in favor of placing his palm against the cool, carved rock. He could feel the mild numbness coming over him that signified the power washing over him and felt himself reach for a hammer to start working.

_"Your eyes once were blinded..."_

Ah, there was the voice that he wanted to hear. He smiled happily under his helmet as he got to work.

"Why did you touch the stone?! You're being controlled! You must break out of it!"

He frowned, and did not stop what he was doing. He hoped whoever it was, she would go away and go bother someone else who actually cared.

_"And when the world remembers..."_

He hoisted up a rock and started hammering it into properly sized rocks to fit into a large crack that had developed over the ages.

"Don't let it control you! I know you can break out of it! I know you can!"

The stranger was starting to seriously annoy him. He was trying to listen to the voice! There are dozens of others she could go bother! He tried to continue to ignore her and strained to listen to the other, much more alluring one.

 _"By night we-"_ "-let him control you!"

_Oh for the love of-_

He broke out of his trance, not that he was able to concentrate on it anymore with the incessant interruptions, and whirled around to face the interloper with a snarl on his face.

"You there," She started to demand, arrogance written over her face at finally being acknowledged, "what brings you to this place? Why are you h-"

He punched her in the face with all the force he could muster with a Daedric-gauntleted fist.

And got back to work.

_"Here do you toil..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …Because seriously, _I am trying to listen to Miraak for fucks sake Frea_. She will not stop yelling at the player if they touch the stone before she initiates conversation and it’s bloody irritating. I just want her to go away and leave me to trek through an undead and Cultist-filled ruins of a temple in peace.


	7. On: Dragonborn, At the Summit of Apocrypha

“Fate decreed that you had to die so that I could win my freedom,” Miraak declared as the two Dragonborns faced off at the summit of Apocrypha, “This is the only way, the only way I can be free!”

The younger Dragonborn danced out of the way of another bolt of lightning and ducked behind a stack of books before yelling back incredulously, “And how do you figure _that!?”_ and ducking away again from the gout of fire spewed from the lips (mask?) of the older Dragonborn. “Seems to me you’re screwed either way! If I win, you’ll probably be dead and none of this will matter, but-” Duck, dive away from the squiggly tentacles spewing out from a similarly squiggly tentacled staff (ew), “-if I lose, yes you get my soul plus a few extras that I picked up along the way, but how exactly would that be any help in getting you out of here anyway?!”

Using the momentary lull in attacks when Miraak paused, the last Dragonborn rallied himself from behind yet another stack of sodden, rotten books and continued, “What, you think Mora would actually let you go? Let either of us go? Dude has a serious problem with hoarding; there’s no way he’ll let either of us go no matter which one of us emerges victorious!”

“With the power from your soul, I will be able to break free from this prison!” Miraak hissed, electricity crackling from between his fingers menacingly, “I am done being Hermaeous Mora’s pawn!”

“Uh, yeah, no!” The younger Dragonborn shot back incredulously, “You might be pretty damn powerful- my arms and my left leg will probably be tingly for a good month after this plus a lifelong phobia of tentacles- but there’s no way you can be more powerful than a bloody Daedric Prince of Oblivion,” He said with conviction, given what he knew of Daedric Princes from all his past run-ins with them during his time running around in Skyrim, “He’s definitely watching this, you know, and the moment one of us loses to the other Mora’ll be swooping down to claim his prize. Do you really think you’ll be able to escape, from within his _own realm_ , under such conditions?”

Miraak made an irritated gesture with his left hand, which unfortunately was the one holding the staff, which even more unfortunately spat out some more wriggly tentacles onto the ground from the motion, causing the younger Dragonborn to shudder.

_So. much. therapy…_

“Then what would you propose to do in such a situation?” The older Dragonborn spat, “By your words, we are both trapped!”

“Wellll…” The younger Dragonborn trailed off as he emerged cautiously from behind the tower of books, having had the idea in his mind for a while but unwilling to say it out loud for fear of the multi-tentacled Prince spying from afar, “I have an idea, but you’re probably not going to like it. Neither will I, come to think of it, if it fails…”

He deliberately sheathed his sword (not that it had much use, given how he’d spent most of his time dodging all the long-ranged attacks) and warily approached the ex-dragon priest, one hand held out placatingly while the other slowly reached into his knapsack, “Mind, I’m not even sure if it will work, but it’s our best bet, so please don’t attack me…”

With that, he whipped out the Black Book that had transported him to Apocrypha and opened it. He could feel Hermaeous Mora’s amusement at him attempting to run under the circumstances, but the Prince appeared to be willing to indulge him in his foolishness…which was exactly what he had counted on before pulling the stunt. Feeling the pull of the Book that signified his imminent return to Nirn, he could see Miraak tense as he thought him to be fleeing.

He promptly Shouted into the priest’s face, right before his sight faded.

_**“NAHL DAAL VUS!”** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got the idea from being Shouted back into Tamriel by Tsun. As far as I’m concerned, Miraak can have Solstheim. Hell, he can have Tamriel for all I care, I’m content with just running around setting bandits and hostile mages on fire and spending days and days doing nothing but decorating my home(s). I **hated** the ending for the Dragonborn questline; I finally run into a character I actually like and he promptly (depending on how fast you complete the storyline) ends up dead? What the hell. After the Skaal had set up such a good fork path too, what with the ‘It may mean that you could save us, or it may mean that you could bring about our destruction’ line. What an utterly wasted opportunity. Would’ve been great if the Dragonborn DLC had went the way of Dawnguard and gave us two (or more) ways to end the questline. Eff you Hermaeous Mora, you can go find yourself a trophy champion elsewhere.


	8. On: College of Winterhold, Eye of Magnus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Lena_TheProfessionalStudent for the suggestion on the College of Winterhold questline! :D

The Dragonborn stared up at the gigantic orb that was floating above the pool of magical energy that was easily several times his size in both height and width. He then turned and looked at the Hall of Elements’ door, compared it mentally with the small, cramped passageways in Saarthal, thought of the trek through the snowy grounds of Winterhold, and the narrow, crumbling pathway leading from Winterhold to the College, complete with constant strong gales and freezing blizzards.

“…How in Oblivion did they manage to get that thing in here?” He asked aloud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously. How?


	9. On: College of Winterhold, Becoming Arch-Mage

"Well done, you have proven yourself more than worthy to guide the College of Winterhold." Quaranir congratulated the Dragonborn, as he and his colleagues moved to secure the Eye of Magnus, "You have our gratitude, Arch-Mage."

The Dragonborn had been nodding along a bit absent-mindedly to the Altmer's words up to that point, but at that last sentence he did a double take.

_...Wait, what?_

"What?" He asked out loud. However the Psyjics were already busy doing...whatever it was that they were doing and within moments they were gone, along with the Eye.

Flabbergasted, he turned to Tolfdir for guidance.

"I daresay the Psyjics are right. There's no one more deserving to be Arch-Mage, in my opinion." The elderly mage said happily, fishing out a set of Savos' robes out from somewhere and stuffing them into the Dragonborn's arms along with a key, "Congratulations, here's the key to the Arch-Mage's quarters."

"I'm sure you've made note of who's been the most helpful during your time here, Arch-Mage." Nirya added, giving the Dragonborn what was probably a sultry look but only served to creep him out.

"What- I-" The Dragonborn sputtered, "I'm barely even here most of the time! Why make me the Arch-Mage?"

Tolfdir, however, was not listening. He merely walked off, humming a tune to himself, while Nirya tutted over the dead body of Ancano, who was floating in the pool of magical energy in the middle of the room.

"Honestly, I don't get why you're so surprised," Enthir said as he passed by with a clap to the Dragonborn's shoulder while staring the Thalmor robes on Ancano with a glint in his eye, "Same reason why everyone was happy with Savos: he doesn't bother with the affairs of the College so everyone gets to do whatever they want short of blowing up the college because the Arch-Mage is busy doing their own thing. Or, in your case, not here."

The Dragonborn sighed and tucked away the key and robes. At least the robes is pretty nicely designed; there was that bare mannequin back at Lakeview he had yet to dress...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because that's probably exactly why the Dragonborn gets to be the leader of a whole bunch of factions despite being away 90% of the time. He/She's never there, and thus the faction members get to do whatever they want without having to actually answer to anyone, and even better, when the Dragonborn _does_ unexpectedly pop up, they can still get rid of them by assigning the Arch-Mage/Vampire Lord of the Court/Harbinger of the Companions/etc. some random quest and send them off on their merry way again. Win-win!


End file.
